Last nights notes. I wrote while waiting for the play that Bill is in, Pap Smear and then decided to take notes throughout the show. Here they are.

Sitting in an off Broadway theater, off Eighth Avenue on west 43rd Street. It’s raining steadily outside. The theater seats about 75 people capacity.

I walked across town after staying late in the office, killing time and fighting bible thumpers online in an Entertainment Weekly website regarding JK Rowling stating that Dumbledore, the headmaster from the Harry Potter series is gay. People are upset with this and quoting scripture while condemning wide swaths of people.

It’s funny, I’m so used to writing online that sometimes, if I’m not sure if I spelled a word incorrectly while writing it out by hand, I expect to see the telltale sign from spell check underlining my mistake.

Jose Blackorby is in town and I found this out via Rand this morning, and that was all I heard. Jose I think is staying at a hotel at 49th and 7th avenue and supposed to be available after 7PM, but here I am at an off Broadway theater. When I walked across town in the rain, I purposefully walked past 49th and 7th, but didn’t see any hotel there at those cross streets.

If I had my way, I’d be home, in from out of the rain.

I’m the only single person here. Not a full house, but everyone else is in a group, or with a companion. My companion will be on stage in the play.

Now it’s 8:16. The play is supposed to start at 8:00 of course, but this is off Broadway so one has to put up with it. They hardly ever start on time.

I do have detailed notes at this point, but decided to skip it.

The other day when Bill offered me a ticket, I suggested Friday, but when Friday came around I figured that Saturday would be better. I mentioned it to Bill, seeing if he could switch the nights but he said it was too late. I was also supposed to have a cigar with an old friend from the music business days, Corey Williams, but I begged off, rescheduling for next week.

I just want to get home and chill out. I’m sure it would be different if I was with someone, I know I’m different if I’m with someone, but I’m not. No one to talk to, and so I write. Writing in public can be seen as being anti-social, but there’s no one being social with me so I guess it’s an uneven balance, if that’s not too much of an oxymoron.

It’s intermission and I usually run out for a smoke, but as we’re in a back room on the fifth floor and it’s raining out, it would probably take me 10 minutes to get outside.

Someone took a bath in perfume. Someone who came in after the intermission who wasn’t there in the first half.

Post show.

My overall impression is that I could write a better play, but obviously I haven’t so the playwright has me beaten on that count. I didn’t think it was the rip roaring comedy that the post card said it was, but the audience sure did. Let me put it this way, it puts the chlamydia in comedy. 4 grown men who have no clue what a OB/GYN does in the 21st century, and freak out thinking their wives are having an affair. Then they go in drag, beards and all to the doctor’s office. Comedy ensues. At least the audience thought so.